Gustave Dore

As an addendum to my previous post, this is my absolute favourite Gustave Dore drawing from the book. I love that you can still get a sense of this smoky, noisy, dark world when wandering around the East End and London Bridge.

Victorian view on Consumerism

I came across this in my research recently and it really resonated. First published in 1872, this is an excerpt from Blanchard Jerrold's book London: a pilgrimage. Part of the fascination that middle-class Victorians held for social dissection that was spearheaded by Henry Mayhew and, later, Charles Booth, this book charts typical activities of people in London, including big events such as the boat race and balls, alongside every day life (and death) amongst the poor through a series of short chapters, exquisitely illustrated by Gustave Dore.

This is from the chapter entitled Humble Industries:

“There really isn’t any knowing what we shall come to,” said an intelligent New Cut dealer, who was fast disposing of immense mounds of cabbages and lettuces. “Just look how common pines have become, at a penny a slice. In my young days no such thing as a pine had been seen in any market except Covent Garden. But the worst of it is” – the man continued, following out his practical line of thought – “the worst of it is while what I call luxuries get cheaper every season, necessities – the things a man must have – get dearer. These are curious times, gentlemen; and we must keep up to them, or go to the wall. People want so many more things than they did when I was a lad. You see, as I said before, cheap luxuries and dear necessities are the cause of all the mischief. I don’t know how it’s to be helped: it isn’t my business – but I see the mistake plain enough, when the crowds in rags are collecting round the new-fangled ginger-beer and penny-ice man.”

It's worth considering his final points in terms of life today ...

Separated at Birth

Man, I LOVE that Earth, Wind & Fire dude. He's SO happy!

We couldn't wait ...

Of course I couldn’t wait and we got married a month ago on 2^nd April at beautiful East Close Country Hotel.

It was so much better than I’d imagined my wedding to be, which is something of a blessing seeing as my imagined wedding had been designed when I was about 8 so there were choirs of angels, vast numbers of guests in fancy dress outfits and a distinct lack of menu planning.

My 2010 wedding was informal but glamorous, emotional but fun and, above all, OURS! My husband was more adoring and more handsome than I could ever have wanted. The venue was just perfect in all its shimmering chandeliers, mirrors and wallpapers. The meal was perfect. The party was raucous and rammed. And the weather turned from stair-rod rain to bright sunshine in a blue-blue sky the moment I got to the end of the aisle (in tears, attractively enough). I cried most of the day, which was such a relief, actually, as the previous few weeks had been building up to such a crisis of stress I was worried I’d be so wound up that I wouldn’t feel anything. But I felt everything and was so, so happy!

The happiness buoyed us through the hang-overs-from-hell the following day and all the way through our lovely three days in Weymouth, where we slept and ate chocolate and cheese and drove around aimlessly trying to find pubs that were never open.

And now we’re back and a month married. Everyone asks us, does it feel any different? And, honestly, it doesn’t. Actually, that’s a lie: I feel warm when I thin about being married and I feel very safe. But for the rest of it … there are moments when we’re having a row – usually because I’m bored or he’s tired – where I realise that I couldn’t leave him, even if I wanted to now, but that’s a good thing. I want to be with him. Even though rowing with him is the most miserable thing on earth, I would rather row with him than anyone else in the world. And I can. I get to wake up with his silly little puppy face and poke his big belly and rub his little hobbit feet (what a lovely concoction of a man I’ve made there … ) every day and I’m very lucky.

And we moved to Winchester on 22^nd December in blizzards into an 80s house decorated by rich elderly conservatives which we’re slowly trying to de-nan. And I now work at the School of Art here which is a delicious walk each morning through the park where I get to see ducks. The ducklings are due soon …

XX

Spotted!

I seem to have seen a lot of famous people in the past few weeks.

Noel Fielding in Kentish Town looking confused
Marianne Faithful coming out of Notting Hill tube station with a nice young man
Gordon Brown shaking hands with a broad-through-the-beam woman behind our building
Will Self walking up Ilkley High St (admittedly not in London)

I wonder who I'll see today :)

Oh yes, we got engaged.

Ha ha! After a pretty shocking week which included a burglary and the kind of all guns blazing rows that would put any Jeremy Kyle 'guest' to shame, Rob and I went out for a drink on Friday 11 September and, while distracting me with a discussion about velux windows, he pulled out the gorgeous (3 emerald cut diamonds in a platinum setting) ring and, of course, I said yes! The fact that we were sitting in the gutter drinking pints outside a slightly divey pub in Victoria only added to the romance. The picture was taken by a lovely, but random, older lawyer lady who happened to be sitting nearby. I'm about twenty minutes engaged. And a bit drunk.

Initially we thought about getting married in April, but ... well, weddings are SO political and we both have friends getting married from May to Septmeber so we've gone for October instead. Which isn't a bad thing because we've got SO much to do in the next year: move, change jobs, finish my MA, build an extension. Obviously, because I'm SUPER obsessed with organising events, the church and venue are now booked for 30 October 2010 aand my dress is already on the drawing board with my designer friend Lisa. Which means I'll basically be dressed and ready to go sometime around February - if you see a forlorn looking little shape sitting outside St Faith's Church at St Cross Hospital, Winchester around then, do pass me a blanket. And a cupasoup.

And of course we are also dieting, so hopefully I'll drift down the aisle all whispy like a ballerina rather than rumble past my guests like a contestant on Four Weddings - you know, I don't mean to be mean, but they've surely had notice that they're getting married? And that they'll be on telly? They have SEEN a tv show before?

So, in the past month I/we have:

1. Bought a house in Winchester - we should be getting the contracts this week which even our solicitor thinks is very fast. Means we could be in by end of October. WOOP WOOP.

2. Got engaged.

So now we have to:

1. Move

2. Get a new job

3. Plan a wedding

4. Try not to get pregnant

5. Or fat

I think that's enough to be getting on with for now.

XX

Next!

So, of course, we went to see the Canon Street property on Saturday and, of course, I completely fell in love with it and, of course, I cried when we went to see the Stockbridge Road house because it was smaller and darker than I remembered and I was terrified that Robbie would make us buy it.

So, of course, I won - and our offer was accepted this morning! Not only is it a better situated house - on one of the loveliest streets in Winchester - but it has better development potential and, get this, is £65k cheaper!

I am so much more excited that I was about Stockbridge Road - the house is in just such a lovely location and is exactly where I wanted to be when I thought about moving to Winchester. And, another plus, it's wider than the other 2-beds on the road because it's newer so even though it's not a period property, it's better value.

Rob's already drawing up the plans :).

Anyway - we're over the moon and hope that things go okay. Am so pleased to de-register from Rightmove.com and to think about the most amazing change in my life to date: moving out of London (woohoo!) and into a lovely little home with my beautiful, fun and gorgeous boyfriend.

Speaking of whom - after horrific rows on Saturday and a wierd non-day on Sunday when we didn't have anything to do for the first time in months and were all discombobulated by it, we went for a picnic at Hever Castle. It was a beautiful sunny day and I had images of green lawns and relaxing lounging - Hever, however, is a haven for chav families with screaming kids and fake Bugaboos, and the spectacle of topless, tattoed men wondering around the beautiful late Victorian Italian gardens have been seared onto my retinas forever. Honestly - those flapping moobs and sad little bellies were hardly fitting for the former home of Anne Boleyn. We left, aghast, after a few hours because Rob was hot and threatening to take his t-shirt off, and stopped in at Chartwell on the way home - although we simply drove through the car-park, the densely packed cars were far more of our ilk and the tottering white-haired folk, clutching tartan rug and flask, reminded us that we are this far from getting a National Trust Season Ticket.

Would that be such a bad thing?